Yet, thou eternal Watcher of the tides,
Knowing their passions, tell me! Why must we
Rapturous beings of the spray and storm
That, chanting, beat our hearts against thy shores
Of aspiration—ebb? ebb and return
Into the songless deep? are we no more
Than foam upon thy garment?
Another wave has broken at your feet
And, moaning, wanes into oblivion.
But not its radiance. That flashes back